


Measuring Up

by redreaper86



Series: You're A Part Of This, Too [5]
Category: The Batman (Movie 2021)
Genre: (For Ed), (For Oswald), 2022 Riddlebird, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Body Image, Chris Messina Zsasz, Colin Farrell Penguin, Crying, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Margot Robbie Harley Quinn, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Child Abuse, Paul Dano Riddler, Recovery, Self-Harm, The fluff comes back in chapter 8, Trans Edward Nygma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Verbal Abuse, Warnings for chapter 4, Weight Issues, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27972191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redreaper86/pseuds/redreaper86
Summary: Edward is extremely insecure about his post-pregnancy body and Oswald is doing his best to reassure him. But when Oswald is called away to deal with a crisis at the Iceberg Lounge, an abusive ex-lover of his breaks into the mansion, drugs Ed, verbally abuses and almost rapes him. The traumatic incident pushes Edward into a very dark and unhealthy place and it is everything he and Oswald can do to pull him back out again.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: You're A Part Of This, Too [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011039
Comments: 38
Kudos: 33





	1. Surveying The Damage

Staring at himself in the full-length master bedroom mirror, wearing just his boxers and a tank-top, Edward surveyed the damage eight and a quarter months of pregnancy had done to his body.

It had been two weeks since the blessed event had occurred and Ed had been very busy getting into the new schedule that Baby Olive ruled over with a tiny but iron fist. Waking up in the middle of the night to give Olive her bottle (Ed had decided to forgo chest-feeding to avoid the dysphoria that came with that), diaper changing, doctor appointments...he hadn't even had time to examine himself in a mirror, let alone step on a scale.

But now that Oswald had hired a full time housekeeper (a stout Russian woman named Olga) and an au pair (a young woman named Alexis), to take over some of the extra work, Ed had begun to notice the change in his body. How his usually baggy old clothes fit much tighter now -- he could barely fasten the top button of his cargo pants. And the exceedingly unwelcome new jiggle in his midsection. _Even my face is rounder now_ , Edward thought in disgust.

He stepped on the scale, something he hadn't done since Olive was born, and saw that he weighed two hundred and five pounds -- a number that took his breath away. He'd gained _thirty_ pounds. It had to have been all those ridiculous cravings he'd given in to those last two months of carrying Olive. Not to mention all that lazing around on the couch, letting the fat he was consuming grow like toxic mould all over his stomach, hips and thighs -- how could he have let himself go so dreadfully?

Edward clicked his tongue, trying not to cry as he unrolled the measuring tape. Resisting the urge to suck in his gut, he wrapped the tape around his waist and found himself gasping again. Thirty-seven inches! Back when he was skinny, his _ass_ hadn't even been that big around. Now he shuddered to guess at its circumference. Edward looked at the tape, biting his lip. Well, if he didn't measure, he'd never know...

The answer the tape gave him caused Ed to feel physically sick. He couldn't even look in the mirror anymore, his self-loathing was at such an all time high. And he had no one to blame but himself for his weight gain. He couldn't blame it on Olive anymore. He couldn't even blame it on Oswald, even though it had been the latter who'd spoiled him to no end with treats the last couple months of his pregnancy. Edward could've politely declined. He should've done. But he hadn't -- he'd gorged himself on everything Oswald had brought him -- even asked for more sometimes.

Hesitantly, he lifted his shirt to reveal his softly rounded belly, the pale skin lanced with fresh red stretch-marks like bloody lightning bolts. Ed viciously pinched the excess flesh, digging his nails in until the telltale white-hot pain let him know he'd broken skin.

Good. He deserved to feel bad. Served him right for getting so out of control.

Oswald walked in just in time to see the trickle of blood dribble down Ed's stomach. "Edward, stop!"

"Do you have an X-acto knife handy?" Ed asked brightly, digging his nails even deeper into the wound they'd made. The pain was so acute his knees nearly buckled. "I'm going to slice all this disgusting fat away."

Oswald was over to him in three strides and, gently gripping Ed by the wrists, he pulled his hand away from the bleeding gouge on his stomach. "Edward, why?" Oswald asked in such a soft, horrified tone that Ed burst into tears. Oswald enveloped him in his arms.

"That's it, I'm not going into the Lounge tonight," Oswald said, pulling his phone out of his inside coat pocket.

Edward tried to tell him he didn't have to stay, that he'd be fine by himself, but the truth was both of those statements would be lies.

Oswald put his phone up to his ear. "Zsasz? I need you to cover my shift at the club."

There was a pause and Ed nuzzled his face deeper into Oswald's shoulder. He could hear Zsasz's deep growly voice say something over the phone.

"Good." Oswald said. "Keep an eye out for anything else suspicious." He hung up.

Edward lifted his head up from Oswald's shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Someone's been vandalizing the Lounge," Oswald said, pocketing his phone. "Small-time stuff, like threatening graffiti. Zsasz thinks it might be a rival nightclub owner."

Edward felt a stab of annoyance at the mention of Oswald's newest goon. "Did he ever stop to think it might be his own psycho boyfriend? Roman Sionis is a nightclub owner too, and he's always been jelous of how respected you are and how popular the Iceberg Lounge is."

Oswald shook his head. "This isn't Sionis's style. If that narcissistic bastard wanted to hurt the Lounge he would do something a lot more spectacular. Cutting off the faces of the staff and nailing them all over the walls, that kind of thing."

"Maybe he's keeping his attacks low profile on purpose so you don't know it's him," Edward said, still hoping the culprit was the Black Mask if only because he was Zsasz's boyfriend and then Oswald would have something to be mad at Zsasz about for once. As it was, Zsasz was Oswald's right-hand man, his most trusted henchperson, with whom Oswald was spending an inordinate amount of time with ever since he hired him right around the time Olive was born.

All of which deeply irritated Ed.

"Roman?" Oswald snorted. "Using common sense? I don't think so. Zsasz will find out who it is, don't worry. Now, back to the matter at hand..."

"You mean the one where I was about to give myself a DIY nip-and-tuck and you were about to convince me why that is a bad idea?"

Even as he said these words in his chirpy tone, Edward was already regretting them as he watched Oswald's face go pale.

"What do I have to do to convince you you're beautiful?" Oswald asked, holding Ed's face between his hands. "Tell me."

Edward's heart twisted as he realized he was hurting Oswald as much, if not more so, than himself.

"Anything," he said at last. "Everything. No matter how much I tell you I hate it."


	2. 'Thicc,' As The Kids Say

To Edward's boundless delight (and mild horror) Oswald did exactly as he'd been bade. And as Ed had predicted, the first thing out of his own mouth was:

"I was just kidding, please stop, I _hate_ this."

Oswald paused tactfully in his simultaneous occupations of holding Ed firmly by the hips in front of the mirror, his fingers slowly but surely pushing up Ed's tank-top to reveal the soft plump belly underneath it. "Do you _need_ me to stop?"

"No," Ed whined, his eyes firmly shut. "But I _want_ you to."

Oswald pressed his lips against Ed's ear. "What you want and what you need are two very different things, dearest," he murmured, his voice sweetly teasing. "Now open your eyes."

"No."

Edward squeaked as Oswald squeezed his now well-padded hips firmly.

" _Now_."

His heart pounding, his stomach fluttering, his face burning, Ed obeyed.

"Do you see the love of my life in that mirror?"

"If you mean that useless, gluttonous waste of space standing in front of you, then yes."

"Do _not_ ," Oswald said, more severely than Ed had ever heard him, "talk about yourself that way. Apologize to yourself."

Edward snorted derisively. "That’s ridiculous -- no way."

"Yes way, Edward. You insulted the man I love and I want you to tell him you're sorry." And when Edward remained silent, Oswald gave him a light swat on his ample behind as a reminder. "Hurry up."

"Fine." Edward rolled his watery eyes. "This is so stupid."

"Do you have something to say to yourself, Ed?" Oswald said, his tones dangerously sharp, dangerously sweet.

Edward watched his own face turn red in the mirror. "Sorry, me," he said finally. "Good enough?" he asked Oswald.

"It'll do for now," Oswald said indulgently, kissing the side of Edward's head. "Now was that so very hard?"

"Yes," Edward squirmed in Oswald's vice-grip, trying unsuccessfully to pull his shirt back down. "Are we done yet?"

"Hm. Not quite," Oswald decided and Edward hung his head in a 'what now' sort of way. "You need to say something nice about your new body."

Edward let out the biggest, most petulant sigh in the history of big, petulant sighs. It would have put the most disaffected of teenagers to shame.

"Try again," Oswald said kindly. "This time with actual _words_."

"I can't." Edward said simply and he shrugged. "Oh well. At least I tried..." With that, he writhed away from Oswald, who caught the back of his shirt and yanked him right back in front of the mirror.

"I find that hard to believe," Oswald said, patiently holding onto Ed as the latter squirmed, huffed, pouted and, in general, felt very sorry for himself. "Seeing as you never seem to be at a loss for nice things to say when you are talking about my body."

"I already told you that's different."

"Because you think being fat suits me but not you?"

"I never said it that way!" Edward felt the backs of his eyes sting at the implication of being so vain, so selfish. "I think you're beautiful no matter what size you are and if you wanted to lose weight I would support you."

"I don't, but I very much appreciate being offered the choice. So what makes you think," Oswald turned Ed around in his arms to face him, "that I wouldn't do the exact same thing for you?"

"I don't _know_ ," Edward whimpered. "I'm just so used to having people try to control the way I look -- first my father, then the head of the orphanage --"

Here he broke down sobbing as those people who were supposed to protect him the most, as well as the horrible things they'd done to him to try to force him to look like someone he wasn't, all came rushing back.

"Shh, love, you don't have explain yourself to me," Oswald murmured, cupping Ed's face with his hands, wiping his tears away with his thumbs. "I know you're more comfortable being slim and that's okay. We can talk to Dr. Tompkins sometime this week and make a healthy plan for you to lose the extra weight. Would you like that?"

Edward sniffled and nodded. "I don't deserve you."

Oswald gripped Ed's chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. "You deserve the world, Ed. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

Edward had no words. So instead of using his lips for talking, he used them for kissing Oswald instead, namely on that lovely mouth of his that never failed to say the absolutely perfect thing. How could he have ever been afraid Oswald would try to make him stay looking a certain way? In fact, now that he knew Oswald intended to help him look the way he liked, not force him to stay at this weight to make some trite point about body positivity, he actually felt more comfortable in his wider, softer form. When Oswald's hands slid down from Edward's face to grip his squishy waist, Ed's first instinct wasn't to hold in his stomach, as he'd previously been doing for two weeks. It was, finally, to breathe freely, letting his belly and all the new pudge that came with it press into Oswald's hands.

"I guess I can think of one good thing about this new body of mine," Edward broke their kiss to murmur against the corner of Oswald's mouth. "You've been groping at least twice as much as usual. Which is really saying something."

"It only feels that way because your body is extremely aware of the weight you've gained," Oswald said. "You are hypersensitive to being touched now because you've been agonizing over it so much."

Edward nodded. "I've noticed since I got fat, I've gotten more ticklish. Is that a thing?" He darted out a hand to Oswald's waist to test his theory only to have it seized and pinned behind his back while Oswald's fingers were the ones kneading Ed's stomach, eliciting squeals of protesting laughter from the latter.

"Let's get one thing straight," Oswald said, over Ed's giggling, "you aren't fat. Not even close. You are 'thicc,' as the kids say nowadays."

"Bleh!" Ed pretended to dry heave. "I don't know what's worse: being described by that word, or a Boomer trying to use Gen-Z lingo."

"' _Boomer_?'" Oswald, who Ed knew could only be Gen-X, repeated incredulously. "Right, that's _it_ , you little brat..."

Oswald's hands crawled all over Edward's chubby midriff, pinching and prodding, spidering and scrabbling, so that the younger man had to laugh until he was breathless.

And just when Ed thought he'd never draw breath again, Oswald caught his mouth with his and breathed new life into him.


	3. The Scarred, Scruffy Third Wheel

Edward shivered as Oswald kissed him, deeply, slowly, with one hand moulded to the back of his head, the other on the small of his back, slipping up under his shirt to caress the soft skin there. He ran his hands over Oswald's broad shoulders, sliding the latter's blazer off. There was something so sexy about Oswald being fully dressed in his custom-made suit, so dignified and majestic while Ed was just in his underwear. Clothes and confidence made all the difference with Oswald, Ed thought. Maybe he, Edward, would feel better after getting some better clothes? But only after he'd lost the weight. As a reward. He didn't deserve any new clothes now, looking like this.

Oswald pushed him up against the wall and all of Ed's self-loathing thoughts were chased away. He twined his arms around Oswald's shoulders, sliding off the latter's suspenders so that they dangled against Oswald's legs. He stood on his tiptoes to make their height difference more stark -- Edward only had two inches on Oswald and, since he had a bad habit of slouching, a lot of times it appeared as though Oswald was slightly taller than him.

High-heeled boots, those were another thing he could wear to boost his confidence. After he'd lost the weight, of course...

He began to pant as Oswald slid his hand up his thigh, slipping his fingers up under the fabric of Ed's boxers, up, up and --

Oswald's phone rang from his crumpled blazer on the floor and he pulled his hand away. They both stared at the discarded suit-jacket. With a heavy sigh, Oswald released Edward and picked his ringing jacket up off the floor, plucked his buzzing phone out of the inside pocket.

"It's Zsasz."

"Tell him he's fired," Ed said spitefully, folding his arms.

Oswald playfully covered Ed's mouth with his hand as he put the phone up to his ear. "This better be important."

" _It's bad, boss. You need to get down here_."

"Alright, I'll be right there." Oswald hung up. "I'm really sorry, Edward."

Edward shook his head. "Not your fault. I just hope Zsasz does his job and finds out whoever is doing this because so far all he's managed to do is pull you away from me."

"I'll make this up to you, baby," Oswald said, cupping Ed's chin. "I promise."

Edward nodded, trying to smile for him. "I know."

After Oswald left, Edward was at a loss for things to do. It was only nine thirty in the evening. He'd been counting on at least an hour of fooling around with Oswald before he actually went to sleep.

He checked on what the kids were up to. They were all in their rooms, the lights out in Ethan and Martin's rooms but still on in Ignatius's room. The door was open a crack and Ed could hear the teenager talking on the phone to his boyfriend, James Gordon Jr.

"...dosen't approve of us dating because you're a serial killer. And I was all, 'Wow, Dad, pot-kettle much?' No, he's great. Bit of a nerd but that comes in handy when I need help with my math homework. Yeah, she's great. Really cute. You've got a little sister, can you give me any advice..."

Edward drew away, smiling. He checked on little Olive in the nursery. She was laying peacefully asleep in her bassinet, on her side with a blanket rolled up behind her and in front of her so that she wouldn't roll over on her back or face. Ed smoothed her tiny head covered in soft black hair she'd inherited from Oswald. She'd opened her eyes the other day and Ed had been startled to see that they were the exact shade of jade-green as his own. He almost hadn't been sure she was really, truly a part of him, not until he'd seen her eyes.

"Hi, evil little genius," Edward murmured. He placed his hand lightly on her back. "You're so tiny. Only seven pounds. What's your secret?" He tilted his head, pretending she was answering him. "Being a baby? Sorry, I don't think that'll work for me. Thanks for the suggestion though."

He readjusted the baby monitor, gently pressed a kiss onto Olive's head, then went back into the master bedroom. He synced the baby monitor to his phone, turned the sound up, placed it onto the bathroom counter and got into the shower. Ten minutes later he was finished, dressed in new boxers and one of his old t-shirts that fit him perfectly now, as he'd always worn them too large before.

He opened the huge window as it was late May, and Gotham was in the throes of a heat wave. And as beautiful as Cobblepot Manor was, the mansion did not have central air. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and caused the pale, filmy curtains to billow into the room. He basked in the blessed coolness for a few more minutes before laying down on the bed. His head felt so heavy from the heat of the shower that it sank like a stone into the soft pillow. His limbs did the same, settling into the mattress where they'd landed, and his eyelids fell closed like a couple of garage doors. He could feel himself slipping, deeper and deeper, into dreamland.

The room seemed to sway a little, pleasantly, like ocean waves. All was quiet, but not dead silent. There was the creaking of the huge old mansion settling for the night. The faint whisper of the summer breeze. Ed's own breathing...

And then --

A footstep.

Right by the window.

Then another.

And another. 

Each time, closer than the last.

Edward felt the old, familiar, weary surge of terror. He was going to have another nightmare. And it was going to be a really, _really_ bad one this time.

The footsteps were deliberate, precise. Edward tried to use this information to decipher what the person, or creature, they belonged to looked like, but his mind could not settle on any concrete result. The footsteps stopped at the side of his bed.

Edward, fully aware that he was utterly helpless and exposed to this unknown nightmare-being, was equally as aware that whatever came next he could not escape of wake up from. He had to let the bad dream play out and just keep reminding himself that no matter how terrible things got, this was all in his mind.

There was silence and Ed nearly became impatient for the horrors to commence -- the sooner they started, the sooner they'd be over with.

There was a sound of aerosol spray and Ed smelled a sharply sweet scent of candy of some sort. _Grape soda_ , Edward decided, as his mind felt even foggier, his limbs even heavier. And to his growing horror, he realized that this was _not_ a dream, that he'd just now been drugged and he'd let his only opportunity at escape slip right by him earlier.

Long, slender fingers caressed the side of his face. There were heavy rings on each one of them; Edward could feel their metallic chill against his skin. A breathy, nasal voice whispered in his ear:

"Hey, little freak."


	4. Midnight Tormenter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: this chapter contains drugging, non-consensual touching and kissing, almost rape as well as extreme verbal abuse, which includes body-shaming, slut-shaming, dehumanizing language and hints of transphobic language.

Edward tried to place the voice, but he'd never heard it before. He couldn't even tell what sex the person was -- not while they were whispering.

"What _does_ Oswald see in you?" the voice whispered. "Because I, for one, can't figure it out. What do you have..." The fingers trailed down Ed's face, to his neck, to his chest, "...that I don't have? Hm?"

Edward's breathing came quicker as the fingers meandered around his chest, which only had the thin layer of his t-shirt covering it. His skin bristled with goosebumps. 

"Because it seems to me..." the fingers walked down the center of Ed's sternum to poke teasingly at his soft stomach, "...that Oswald's settling for you. Don't you think so? Have you even thought about it with that big brain of yours? I mean, have you ever honestly _looked_ at yourself?"

The voice chuckled breathily into Edward's ear. "You're such a pathetic, grasping, needy little whore. Crying about getting fat, making him have to comfort you about it. Whining when he has to go in to work because, poor you, you didn't get your obligatory daily fucking."

Ice shot through Edward's veins. _How did this person know all this? And how did they know Oswald? And how did they get into the house -- where their children were, Oswald's and Ed's?_ Hot tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes, ran down his temples and into his hair.

"Oh, poor _baby_ , not the tears _again_..." the voice cooed in mock-pity. "All you ever do is cry. I'm starting to see what Oswald sees in you. He always was a sucker for the strays. That's all you are to him. An orphan. A pet. A half-decent fuck. The only reason he's with you is because he's getting old and lax.

"You should have seen him back in the day. When he was with me. Actually, maybe you can. I'm sure Oswald kept pictures of us back in our heyday. You should take a good long look at them. You'll understand then why you have to leave him. Because no matter how hard you try..."

The mouth came even closer to Edward's ear, whispered even softer:

"You'll never measure up to the likes of me."

The slender, beringged hand gripped Ed's chin, tilting his face up. Then a hot, hungry mouth clamped down over his, greasy lips moving inexorably against his, the powerful tongue thrusting past his yielding lips, through his slack jaw to invade every part of his mouth.

Edward could hear the disgusting sounds of the stranger's saliva mixing with his own. As the mouth was assaulting his, the hand let go of his chin and walked daintily, almost mischievously, down his chest to his belly. The mouth unsuctioned from his to whisper:

"You want me to finish what Oswald started, pumpkin pie?"

Edward's blood curdled. The fingertips traced circles on his stomach.

"Of course you do. Greedy little whore. You're not to be denied, are you? I don't imagine you deny yourself much of anything, what with all this pudding on your belly." The fingers danced teasingly on his stomach, causing the flesh of it to crawl.

"If you want me to stop just say so," the voice continued, its owner clearly enjoying themselves. "I'd hate to do anything against your will."

Ed tried but couldn't answer.

"Silence is consent," the voice sneered, the fingers starting to slip under the elastic waistband of Edward's boxers.

Then a tiny wail sounded. _Olive_. Edward fought to wake up, the sound of his baby crying miraculously giving him the strength to overcome the drug.

"Shit!" said the voice, realizing what was happening. Then with a rustle of leather fabric, the speaker stood up, and Ed heard the footsteps retreating quickly back to the window.

A few more agonizing moments of paralysis passed before Edward convulsed awake, nearly launching himself right out of bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor he darted to the open window and leaned out, scanning the entire manicured estate.

There was not a soul to be seen.

The tiny wail emanated from his phone again. Edward snatched it up.

Olive --

\-- what if the monster was still in the house -- ?

Edward ran down the hallway to the nursery which was just at the end of the hall. He burst in, scooped his crying baby from her crib, all the while turning around, scrutinizing the entire room, not letting his back be at one place for too long. He kept backing up, holding Olive close to his chest, until he reached a corner where he sank to the ground, shaking, shaking, shaking.

Olive cried piteously against his heart, and Ed wanted to do the same. He cursed himself for choosing to bottle-feed her. Now he'd have to walk through the huge dark house all the way to the kitchen to prepare Olive's formula, either leaving her alone in the nursery, or bringing her with him. Either way the intruder could get to Olive.

His phone. Oh, thank fuck, he'd brought his phone.

He thumbed it, went to his contacts and immediately pressed the penguin icon.

And when Oswald finally picked up, Edward was crying as much as Olive was.


	5. Oswald's Ex

It took Oswald just twelve minutes to get back home from the Iceberg Lounge in downtown Gotham City traffic and Edward was sure the reason was as much from the incoherence of his words as the coherence.

During those twelve minutes, the twelve longest minutes of his life, Edward soothed Olive as best he could.

However, by the time Oswald arrived with Zsasz, Ed was ready to fall apart. Olive was screaming in his arms, her whole head red and overheated like a lightbulb left on too long.

Edward blinked blearily up at Oswald and Zsasz as the nursery lights flicked on. Oswald gathered Olive from Edward's tired arms. Immediately, her crying subsided. Edward felt more inadequate than ever.

"What happened to you, Edward?" Oswald asked urgently, cupping the side of the younger man's face. "Talk to me, baby."

"Someone came into my room," Ed said, hardly able to keep his eyes open, let alone form the words. "They must've drugged me...I couldn't move...couldn't do anything..."

"What's all that red stuff all over his mouth, boss?" Zsasz asked Oswald as though Ed weren't even there. "Is it blood?"

Oswald swiped at whatever substance was smeared on Ed's lips. "The intruder kissed me," Edward said quickly, remembering how his assaulter's lips felt greasy. "I couldn't fight back -- I tried..."

Oswald's hand cradled Ed's chin gently as he cleaned the lipstick away with his handkerchief. "What else did they do to you, Edward?" The implication was clear.

"Nothing like that," Edward whispered. "They almost did, but then Olive started crying and scared them off."

"It was obviously a chick, leaving lipstick behind like that," Zsasz chimed in again, and Edward felt a sudden surge of rage towards him.

"Then why don't you make yourself useful, Zsasz, and go search the house to see if the intruder is still here?" he snapped. "That’s what Oswald is paying you for, not to play amateur detective."

Zsasz's dark eyes widened and, with a shrug, he loped off to obey. Edward waited until he was gone before murmuring to Oswald:

"Whoever did this knew exactly what happened between us before you left. It was almost as though we were being watched."

"What did they say, exactly?" Oswald asked, rocking Olive in his arms. She was nearly asleep again.

Edward sighed. With his eidetic memory, he could remember every single word and he recited them, mechanically, without emotion. When he was finished, Oswald was shaking with fury on his behalf.

"I'm so sorry you went through all that, Edward."

"Me too," Edward said grimly. "Nothing any of us can do about it now, through." He avoided Oswald's beautiful dark caring eyes as he said this, not wanting to see the hurt in them. "Look, the intruder spoke like they knew you from way back. ' _You should've seen him back in the day when he was with me_.' And they seemed to think you'd kept pictures of them. Can you think of any of your exes that would do this?"

Oswald's face hardened. "There was one," he said finally. "I broke up with him when I was twenty-six, four years before I met Ignatius's mother. I burned all the pictures of us."

_Him_.

"Why did you burn the pictures?" Ed asked carefully.

"Because he was an abusive asshole," Oswald said. "He kept me beaten down for years before I finally woke up and left him."

"What was his name?"

Oswald shrugged. "I don't know. He never told me. It was one of his sick mind games."

"You must've called him something," Edward prodded.

"You want to know what he made me call him?" Oswald asked, his tone full of razor blades.

"You don't have to tell me," Ed murmured, placing his hand on top of Oswald's.

"He made me call him 'master,' 'boss,' and sometimes, when he was really feeling special: 'daddy.'"

Edward shuddered.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you asked." Oswald drew Edward close to him.

Zsasz clomped back into the room. "Whoever it was is long gone. So..." he flashed a big, gold-toothed grin. "Who's up for a milkshake?"


	6. The Voice That Never Shuts Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with a character going through anorexia and the negative 'anorexic voice' in one's head that comes with the disorder. It is by far the most triggering thing I've ever written.

Edward couldn't go back to sleep that night without checking for listening devices all over the room, looking under the bed, turning down the covers all the way, and bringing up Butch's crate from downstairs and placing it at the foot of the bed (which was a constant source of noise because Butch scratched his ear in his sleep which would make the whole crate rattle). He thought about closing the window, but it was far too hot for that.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay sleeping in this room?" Oswald asked anxiously, and for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"I'm not going to let that bastard scare me out of sleeping in our own bed," Edward said. "Besides, I'll be fine now that you're here."

Oswald looked stricken. "I wish I'd stayed with you," he said, his voice breaking. "If only I hadn't gone in to the club tonight, had've just let Zsasz handle it..."

The Iceberg Lounge had been forced into and shot up with paintball guns. Nobody was seriously injured, but the damage to the nightclub was extensive.

"It's not your fault, Oswald," Edward reassured him. "You couldn't have known that this would happen. In fact..." he trailed off. It _was_ an awfully big coincidence that Oswald's club was vandalized the same night Ed was attacked...

"What, baby?"

Edward shook his head and smiled ruefully. "I forgot what I was going to say," he lied.

Oswald, thankfully, chalked Ed's uncharacteristic memory loss up to the younger man still being shaken up over his ordeal.

They got under the covers and though Edward did flinch when Oswald first wrapped his arms around his waist, he forced himself to relax in the other’s embrace. This was Oswald, his true love, who would never hurt him, or let anyone else hurt him again.

But even Oswald couldn't stop the new voice in Edward's head, born a few hours ago, planted there by his midnight tormenter.

_He's touching your stomach._

_He can feel how fat you're getting._

_You have to lose weight._

_You can't eat anymore._

_You can never eat again_.

The voice never shut up, never turned off -- it would just fade into the back of Edward's mind, malevolently whispering.

It grew loudest whenever Edward tried to eat. He imagined his midnight tormenter watching him, sneering at him. So he ate less and less, relishing the emptiness that grew inside him. The pangs of hunger that gnawed his insides, they seemed to soothe the voice into a fitful slumber.

The voice was a light sleeper, though.

Dinner with the whole family was torture for Edward. With all the witnesses around the table, his anxiety at being found out was through the roof. He'd play with his food, rearrange it. Initiate conversations and lift his laden fork to his mouth only to set it back down and ask a question instead. 

Then when Olga came around to collect the plates and raised an eyebrow at Ed's half-finished one, he'd smile at her and say he did his best but he was full. (Actually, it was the napkin in his lap hidden under the tablecloth that was full.)

Olga would shake her head, not charmed, and take Ed's plate, sometimes muttering in Russian. One time she said to Ed: "Whole family of birds and you are only one who eats like one."

As the weeks went by, Edward watched the numbers on the scale and on the tape measure go down. He was ecstatic. At last he was in control of something.

But when he hit his goal weight of one hundred seventy-five pounds, he wasn't as happy as he thought he'd be. He still didn't like the look of his body. Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, he could still hear the voice.

_You can't stop now!_

_Look at how far you've come, how much you've achieved._

_You can stand to lose another ten, fifteen, even twenty pounds._

_You don't want to stay ordinary._

_You want to be extraordinary._

_You have to go even further._

_You have to be weightless_.

Edward took a long drink of tap water to fill the place of the dinner he'd skipped. He was getting used to those.


	7. Beautiful Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for extreme weight loss and suicidal thoughts.

_Dread_.

Edward named the emotion he was feeling as he studied the number on the scale.

One hundred and fifty-five pounds.

He'd lost fifty pounds in twelve weeks. He wrapped the measuring tape around his waist, hoping to see his usual thirty inches that was his usual measurement before he'd gotten pregnant.

The number on the tape made him gasp. _Twenty-five inches_. He'd always been slender but he'd never had a waist that narrow in his entire life as an adult.

He looked in the mirror at his emaciated body, his huge hollow eyes and the dark circles around them. He shivered even though it was a warm September. He was freezing cold all the time now. His bony hands were always blue. His hair and nails were brittle and dry. He hadn't gotten his period last month.

Since Ed wore heavy layers now to try to keep warm, Oswald didn't notice the younger man had lost weight right away. When he did, Edward told him he'd just been watching what he ate (true, but far more strictly than he'd let on), taking Butch on a few extra walks (also true, but he failed to mention all the push-ups, sit-ups and jogging on the spot he'd done several times a day behind the locked bathroom door), and that he'd only lost twenty-five pounds -- an outright lie.

"Don't get too skinny," Oswald had said, a note of seriousness in his teasing tone. "I don't want you disappearing on me."

"I won't," Edward had replied, another lie. He had no intention of stopping his weight's freefall. He didn't even know if he could if he tried.

His eating disorder was a beautiful liar and now it had made one of Edward. All he did now was lie to the people he loved most, conceal things from them, put up an act for them 

He stared in the mirror, hating what he had become. He had no control over this, either. He looked into his own eyes and didn't see himself staring back. All he saw was his disorder. It was the one in control and whatever it decreed, Edward had no choice but to obey it.

He thought of doing terrible things to himself to get people to notice and help him. Stop eating entirely and waste away to nothing? Faint in front of everyone and get a concussion? Slash his wrists just enough to scare everyone so that they would all know that he was silently screaming every day and no one could hear him?

Everyone would make such a fuss over him, especially Oswald. Edward allowed himself the pleasure of a daydream of Oswald carrying his wasted body upstairs -- he was so _light_ now -- and laying him tenderly in bed. Crying over him. Nursing him back to health.

No. That would be a coward's way out. And the collateral damage to his family and to Oswald would be unthinkable. And he'd already hurt them so much.

He stepped out of the master bathroom to be greeted with the sight of Oswald sitting on the bed, feeding little Olive her bottle.

Edward smiled as he watched them. At three months old, Olive was utterly adorable. True, her soft black hair had rubbed away and she was temporarily bald, but Oswald had decorated her little head with a lacy purple headband. Her tiny hand lay over top Oswald's big one, guiding the bottle.

Edward swallowed hard. He wanted to be able to pick Olive up too, for several years to come. If he went on like this, getting sicker and weaker, he might even accidentally drop her.

"Oswald," he said. "I need help."


	8. The Road to Recovery

Doctor Lee Tompkins was likely the only doctor in Gotham City who wasn't either an useless quack or a depraved maniac. To the opposite, she was brilliant at her job and very caring about her patients.

After Edward's initial examination, she explained to both him and Oswald about the difficulties that Edward would face on his road to recovery. Listening to them all, Edward twisted his hands in his lap, almost wishing he hadn't said anything about his eating disorder. But then Oswald put his hand over top of them and he remembered why he was choosing to do this. To get better. For Oswald, Olive, Martin, Ethan and Ignatius.

And himself. He had to remember himself on that list, too.

The whole concept of putting on weight deliberately terrified Ed and made his anorexic voice louder than ever before. Often he had to leave the table in the middle of mealtime to go somewhere to cry. Oswald would always follow him, standing ready to hold Ed whenever he needed him to.

Which was pretty much every time. This latest time Oswald found Edward curled up sobbing on the floor of the master bedroom closet.

"I'm sorry I'm like this," Edward wept now into Oswald's shoulder from his place in the older man's ample lap. "I wish -- I could take it all back and just do what you said before --"

 _Before I was drugged and groped and verbally abused. Before I was kissed against my will. Before I was almost raped_.

Oswald just kept rocking him and hushing him until he was calm enough to go back to the table.

By the time November rolled around Edward had put on fifteen hard-won pounds. He still was five pounds below his goal weight but Oswald had suits made for him anyway. He didn't insist Edward gain those last five pounds. He said that if Edward did gain them, he could have the suits adjusted, if not, then not. Ed had nearly swooned with gratitude.

The petty attacks on the Iceberg Lounge ceased after Oswald beefed up his henchpeople milling about the place. Tonight was the grand re-opening of the Lounge after it had been restored. Oswald wanted to bring Edward and all four of their kids. Several high-profile members of the Rogues Gallery also would be there. Edward was very nervous about meeting them all (the only one he knew was Catwoman), especially as Oswald's new love interest.

Trying on the suits in the master bathroom, Edward avoided looking in the mirror. The mirror had not been his friend lately -- scratch that -- his _mind_ had not been his friend lately and it had turned any reflective surface against him.

Looking down at himself, he tried to see if the front of his torso was flat, but he couldn't tell from this angle. So he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his custom-made sparkly green suit and high-heeled silver ankle-boots and did a twirl.

"What do you think?" he asked Oswald, who was sitting on the bed.

Oswald's dark eyes widened as he took Edward in. "You look beautiful."

Edward blushed and looked down at his clothes. "I don't know..." he murmured. "Sparkles aren't exactly slimming."

"Who cares?" Oswald scoffed playfully. "I like that you stand out."

Edward bit his lip.

Oswald winced. "I just meant that -- "

" -- I know." Edward rubbed his palms on his hips as though trying to physically file them down. "God, you can't even compliment me without my stupid brain taking it the wrong way."

"Your brain is a lot of things," Oswald said. "Weird, wonderful, enigmatic. But definitely not stupid."

A lump formed in Ed's throat. "I hate that he's done this to me," he whispered, referring to Oswald's ex. "To both of us."

"Come here, love."

Edward did so and Oswald pulled him into his lap. "Listen to me," he said, gripping Edward's waist. "He has no power over you. You took his power away the moment you were honest with me and asked for help."

"I still feel so...ruined," Edward whimpered. "He knew everything to say to make me feel the worst. And I still don't know how he knew exactly what we'd been talking about before you left for the club."

"I don't know, either," Oswald said. "But the important thing is: you beat him. You beat him by doing the exact opposite of what he wanted you to do, what he expected you to do. I just wish I'd had your courage to tell someone what he was doing to me, how he was treating me, for all those years."

"It wasn't your fault, Ozzie." Edward felt a pang of sympathy that Oswald had gone through all that abuse for years without hope of comfort or rescue. "I know it's hard to trust anyone after the person who's supposed to love you shatters your trust like that."

"Sometimes I feel ruined, too," Oswald murmured in a tiny voice that broke Ed's heart. "You know since I broke up with him, to this day I've never let anyone top me? I've been too afraid of having my trust taken advantage of again."

Wordlessly, Edward stroked Oswald's cheek. He didn't blame Oswald at all. He would be content to keep things going between them the way they were.

"Someday," Oswald deliberated, "I'd like you to be the one to break that record, Edward."

Edward hardly dared to breathe. "You don't mean..."

"I do. I trust you, Ed."

Oswald's beautiful dark eyes were so soft and full of trust that it was all Edward could do not to shove him back on the bed and kiss the ever-loving daylights out of him. He held out for all of two seconds before doing exactly that.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he said between kisses all over Oswald's face.

"Not right now, though!" Oswald laughed, tossing his head from side to side as Edward tried to catch his mouth with his own. "The kids are waiting for us in the living room! We're already running late."

"Of course not right _now_ ," Edward grabbed Oswald's hands which were trying to peel him off of him, pinning them by the older man's head. "I have to have time to plan it all out. It will have to be very special. For my special bird."

"What exactly did you have in mind, love?"

"No spoilers," Ed teased. "But I'll give you a hint. There will be duct tape."

Oswald blushed at the suggestion of bondage and Edward felt a fiery thrill in the depths of his stomach. Oh, he could get _used_ to _this_. "And," Edward added, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Oswald getting hot and bothered, "there will be donuts. An unholy amount of donuts. Get it? _Un-holey_? 'Cause the donuts won't have holes in them." Edward leaned close to Oswald's bright red ear and hissed: "They'll be _stuffed_."

"You're killing me, you little minx," Oswald groaned, clearly fantasizing about everything Edward was alluding to right now. "I don't want to wait until 'someday' anymore. Could we do it tonight?"

Edward shivered with delight. He was well aware of how lucky he was to be the one Oswald placed all his trust in after having it damaged so badly. 

"Tonight it is, then," he murmured, leaning down to his beautiful bird for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's _that_ for some fluff to assuage that pain of the last few chapters? 
> 
> Every comment and kudos make my day <3


	9. A Night Out

There was a commotion outside the master bedroom door before it banged open and Ethan burst in, little Martin tugging on the back of his shirt, trying to stop him.

"Are you two about ready --" the older boy began, only to crinkle his nose in disgust at the sight of his parents kissing. "Gr- _ross_! Get a room."

"We _are_ in a room," Edward said, laughing at the abject hypocrisy in Ethan's indignant demand.

"Which you very rudely barged into," Oswald added, reaching behind him to seize a pillow and hurl it at his second oldest.

Ethan expertly caught the soft projectile and narrowed his blue eyes at his father. "Did you just yeet a pillow at me?"

"What --" Oswald began, squinting in confusion.

"This means war!" Ethan charged at Oswald and began repeatedly thwacking him with the pillow.

"Yes! Get him," Edward cackled, keeping Oswald's wrists pinned so that he couldn't defend himself from the plushy pummeling Ethan was laying onto him.

"Traitor!" Oswald hollered, yanking his face out of the way as Ethan brought the pillow down again. "Martin, help me! Tickle him!"

Edward barely had time to brace himself before a pair of little hands pinched his sides from behind, causing him to squawk and lose his grip on Oswald's wrists. Doing his best not to hurt Martin, Edward slipped helplessly from Oswald's lap and onto his back on the floor where Martin immediately sat on him.

"Good lad," Oswald said to Martin. Then to Ethan as he grabbed the pillow from him: "As for _you_ \--"

"Ahem," said a new voice. "Father?"

Edward looked up from his place on the floor to see Ignatius standing in the doorway, his slender frame dressed to kill in a sparkly black tuxedo, his platinum blond hair impeccably styled. But most stunningly of all, he was holding little Olive in his arms. She was wearing her lacy purple headband, green velvet dress, lavender wool coat, white tights and tiny patent leather Mary Janes.

"Ignatius," Oswald said, clearly pleasantly surprised. "Were you the one who got the baby dressed?"

"Someone had to," Ignatius said, letting Olive place her tiny spitty hand on his chin. "The nanny is useless. All she does is look at her phone. Olive was crying in her crib and she refused to pick her up. Said some bullshit about 'self-soothing.'"

"She also was listening at your guys' door before we came in," Ethan piped up, not to be outdone by his brother in bashing the au pair. "What a pervo! What if you two had been, you know, doing it?"

There was a silence as everything clicked together in Edward's mind. Of course. Alexis had been spying on them for Oswald's abusive ex-boyfriend.

"Well, _she's_ fired," Oswald said, obviously coming to the same conclusion. "Where is she now?"

"She just left a few minutes ago," Ignatius said. "Like we should have done." He checked his pocket watch. " _Several_ minutes ago, actually."

"Alright, we're coming," Oswald tossed the pillow over his shoulder, grabbed Edward's hand and pulled him up off the floor. "Let's get a move on, all."

When the family finally arrived at the Iceberg Lounge, they were immediately ambushed by something that was black, white and red all over and it wasn't a sunburned penguin.

"Hiya, Pengy!" Harley Quinn gushed, stopping short before hugging Oswald as he was holding Baby Olive. "And is this little Ollie?"

At the sight of such a brightly decorated individual as Harley, Olive babbled and reached for her. Harley gasped as Oswald let her hold the tiny little girl. Olive seized a fistful of Harley's bubblegum pink dip-dyed pigtail and stuck the lot in her mouth.

"Aw, jeez, not the hair, kid," Harley tried to extricate her hair from Olive's hand which was clenched tighter than a miser's. "Babe," she implored Poison Ivy, who'd followed her. "Can you _please_ \--"

The curvaceous green-skinned beauty rolled her eyes and grew a small flower out of the palm of her hand and held it out for Olive, who immediately released Harley's hair to reach for this new interesting person.

Now it was Ivy holding Olive, but she quickly grew some vines, pulling her own long ruby hair into a messy bun out of Olive's reach.

"So you're Pengy's new squeeze, huh?" Harley addressed Ed, looking him up and down with an approving grin on her face, her tongue on her eyetooth. She stuck out her hand laden with rings and bracelets to him. "Harley Quinn, nice to meet ya."

Staring at her slim bejeweled hand, her crimson-smeared mouth, Edward took a step back from her. He looked about desperately for Oswald, who had already gone on ahead with Ivy and the kids to sit at the VIP table.

Harley tilted her head at him. "You're not lookin' so good, hon."

Edward wasn't feeling so good, either. It was too dark in here, too hot. He darted away, in the direction of the restrooms. He burst into the men's room, leaned over the nearest sink, turned on the tap, splashed some water on his face.

He was getting paranoid. Harley was far too young to be Oswald's abusive ex, the one who'd broken into their home and driven Edward to the brink of madness. Besides, Oswald's abusive ex --

(A cruel, metallic clack sounded as the door to the bathroom was locked)

\-- was a man 

Whom Edward was now trapped in a room with. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the cold water droplets drip down his face.

"What do we have here..." that soft, sneering voice that had haunted Edward for half a year, drawled.

"Hey, pumpkin pie. Did you miss me?"


	10. More Than Measuring Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a brief transphobic insinuation from the villain.

Slowly, Edward raised his chin and finally got a good look at the person who had single-handedly shoved him into a dark pit of pain that he had just barely managed to crawl out of, with Oswald's help. The one who'd hurt Oswald so badly all those years ago.

"Gotta say," the Joker said, for that was who it was, "I am _loving_ the new look, baby. You got all dressed up for me?"

His strange too-wide silver eyes looked Edward up and down in much the same way Harley had done -- only the Joker's cold judgment was far more chilling to Ed than Harley's playful lust. The clown stepped closer, his unblinking reptilian gaze causing Edward's skin to crawl.

"It's not for you," Edward said coldly. "Nothing about me is because of you." He had a few inches on the Joker in bare feet, but in his slight heels he was a head taller than the other man.

The Joker snarled, seized Edward by the lapels and slammed him against the wall, shoving his face close to Edward's.

"You got a real smart mouth," the Joker sneered, "for someone who does nothing but whinge and cry about your appearance non-stop. Why don't you get a hobby?"

"That's rich," Ed shot back, "coming from someone who is so insecure because Oswald has moved on with me that you vandalized his club to distract him so that you could break into my room, drug me and try to molest me to get me to leave him. You're the fucking Joker, don't you have anything better to do with your time?"

"Batsy's been hanging out with the Justice League lately," the Joker pouted. "I was bored. I wanted a mind to rip apart and spit in. And you were just too much fun to play with, baby," the Joker growled playfully through his manic metal grin. "All I had to do was give you a little nudge and you did all the rest. Alexis (I call her 'Punchline') told me all about you starving yourself, wasting away, because of all the mean things I said to you. Right in front of ol' Pengy's nose and he didn't know! Ahh, what a good joke it was. I laughed myself stupid."

"You're right about one thing," Edward said calmly. "You _are_ stupid if you did all that to tear Oswald and I apart. We're closer than ever before. You once asked me what I have that you don't have --"

The Joker interrupted him with a snicker. "Um, I think that's fairly obvious, darling..." He dropped his gaze between their bodies.

"I've got Oswald's trust, you idiot," Edward said, ignoring the clown's immature and tired insult. "You know what he's going to let me do to him tonight?"

The Joker's mercury-coloured eyes narrowed. " _You_..." he gnashing his metal teeth in rage.

"You didn't break him," Edward said smugly. "Or me. You're just a ridiculous, comical little man trying to be an edge-lord. I mean, the word 'Damaged' tattooed across your forehead? It's pathetic," he laughed and shook his head. "Everything about you is pathetic, really. In fact, I almost feel sorry for you except for one tiny, insignificant little thing..."

\-- here he slid his hand down between the Joker's legs --

"You hurt my birdie."

\-- and squeezed his fingers into a fist.

The Joker's face was already the colour of chalk but the way his pupils contracted as well as the high-pitched croak he let out was testament to the amount of pain Ed was putting him through.

"If you ever," Edward whispered into the Joker's ear, " _ever_ go near me, or Ozzie, or our children, or our dog, or -- hell, even Olga -- _ever_ again..." he gave the Joker's balls a vicious twist, causing the clown to choke on the pain, "...this will be a pleasant memory compared to the hurt I have in store for you. Got it?"

The Joker let out a squeak that might have been a 'yes' and nodded vigorously. Edward released him and he crumpled to a heap on the floor.

Straightening his blazer, Edward grinned at himself in the mirror. He looked damn fine. He went to the door, unlocked it and walked out, leaving the Joker in a fetal position on the floor, not once looking back.

"There you are, love," Oswald said as Edward collapsed dramatically into his lap. "I need you."

"Mm..." Edward twined his arms around Oswald's shoulders. "Keep talking."

"You see, I ordered this piece of cake," Oswald began, gesturing to an obscenely enormous slice of chocolate cake on a saucer in front of him, "and I need some help to finish it. Normally, I'd eat the whole thing myself, but considering," here he lowered his voice, "what you're planning on doing to me tonight..."

"Right," Edward smiled as he remembered. Just him, Oswald, a whole lotta duct tape and a whole lotta donuts. "I suppose I can have a bite."

Oswald scooped a generous forkful of cake and fed it to Edward. Ed bit down into the soft cake only for his teeth to find a round metal object. Reaching into his mouth, he pulled out a rather spitty and chocolate-covered --

Engagement ring.

"Ozzie..." Edward breathed, staring at it.

"Will you marry me, Edward?"

Ed let out a happy little scream and kissed Oswald on the mouth.

"Now, I'm not fluent in Squealanese, Pengy," Harley said mock-seriously, "but I think that was a 'yes.'"

"Edward?" Oswald said, looking at him earnestly. "Was that a 'yes?'"

"Yes, it was a fucking 'yes!'" Edward burst out, causing the whole table to erupt into laughter as the two lovebirds kissed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this series...but not the end of me writing for 2022 riddlebird.
> 
> What did you all think of the villain reveal? Did you know who it was all along or did it come as a complete surprise? And what do you think of having him as Oswald's abusive ex? Do you want that headcanon to return in my other 2022 fics? 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! <3


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